


undiscovered country

by Katarable



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, Demisexuality, Denial of Feelings, Discovery, F/M, Introspection, Literary References & Allusions, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katarable/pseuds/Katarable
Summary: “Maybe it’s not that she doesn’t like bodies, and maybe it’s not that she hasn’t found the right body, maybe…maybe it’s that there’s only one body. A body with one scar that was for her and a million little scars that match hers, and an irregular pencil grip that wrote a note on the inside cover of her birthday present.”Maka has never been one for feelings. Then something happens.
Relationships: Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	undiscovered country

**Author's Note:**

  * For [makapedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makapedia/gifts).



Something is happening.

  
Maka just wanted a snack. She was hungry at 11:02 pm and wanted to grab something quick and easy from the kitchen. Then she saw Soul drinking milk out of the carton and started blushing for absolutely no reason, and she ran back to her room, and now something is happening.

  
Maka doesn’t like the word “crush.” It’s too violent a word to describe something that’s supposed to be gooey and sweet. It’s also not a word that needs to be part of her lexicon. She doesn’t get crushes. Everyone else has had first kisses and weird over-the-pants touching and all the odds and ends that are either too gross or too weird to think about. Maka doesn’t have odds and ends. She doesn’t really want them. But this…thing is certainly _odd_ and it has an _end_ that sits between her legs, warm and tingly like an itch that needs to be scratched. But it’s definitely not an itch, because itches feel bad. Does this feel bad, or good?

_  
What is happening?_

  
She shakes her head and crosses her legs and _oh no._ The heel of her foot is resting right at the crotch of her sleep shorts and the pressure there makes the something feel…even more of whatever it is. She rocks forward and it kicks into hyperdrive so fast that she pulls her legs out from under her again. That definitely didn’t feel bad, but it sure felt strange. Unknown. Maka doesn’t do unknown. She only cares about what she can see and feel and touch.

  
Touch.

  
This is so stupid. Eighteen years have gone by with absolutely _nothing_ going on downstairs and that hasn’t been a problem at all, but now all of a sudden her body is doing things that she doesn’t know what to make of, that she doesn’t understand, and the worst part is that it’s _just Soul._ He drinks milk out of the carton all the time, and he’s never looked particularly hot while doing it. At least not any hotter than he usually looks. Soul is objectively attractive. Maka won’t deny that. But that’s just aesthetic attraction—actually, “attraction” isn’t the right word to end that phrase. It should be “appreciation.” Aesthetic appreciation. That Maka understands. She goes to school with a ton of hot guys and has never wanted to jump their bones. Kid has gorgeous eyes, Black*Star has the best body she’s ever seen (but he’s also Black*Star,) Kilik is super cute too, and Soul has long fingers and a long tongue—

  
Maybe she just needs to get her mind off things. Braid her hair. Read a book. No, neither of those will do, she looks ridiculous with braids and the book she’s currently reading is _Lolita_ and that won’t help the situation at all because Soul gave the book to her and she does _not_ want to think about him.

  
It was a birthday present. Tsubaki baked that day and Black*Star ate so much of the cake that there was barely any left for everyone else, but he somehow managed to save Maka a slice. Maka wore her flowy green shirt, the one with laces on the front that Liz said complimented her eyes, and she felt pretty. No presents. Just having everyone there was more than enough. Everyone left before it got really dark. Then Soul handed her this hardcover copy of _Lolita_ that was so beautiful it had to have come from an antique store, all the while grumbling about weirdos who wanted to read books about perverts, and she rolled her eyes because _you idiot, that’s such a surface level critique, why don’t you read the book before judging it,_ and she smiled to herself because _Soul was listening when she mentioned wanting to read_ Lolita _that one time._

  
Soul listens. That’s one of her favorite things about him. He holds her hand in public, and he plays with her pigtails after long days, and he listens. He is not gooey and sweet. He is bones and steel. He is wild hair, sleepy eyes, pointed smirks, dry hands that raise her up and sharp edges that he trusts her to wield. Maka has always loved Soul, and she knows that Soul has always loved her. It’s just that now she’s wondering what kind of love it is; what kind of love it’s always been.

  
Maybe it’s not that she doesn’t like bodies, and maybe it’s not that she hasn’t found the right body, maybe…maybe it’s that there’s only _one_ body. A body with one scar that was for her and a million little scars that match hers, and an irregular pencil grip that wrote a note on the inside cover of her birthday present.

  
(It says _Happy 18th, nerd. Glad to be yours.)_

  
She grabs the book and even though she’s over halfway through it, she turns to the first chapter. “Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul.” It’s the most beautiful combination of lines, so concise in wording and yet so rich in its simplicity.

  
Light of my life.

  
Soul holding her as she sobs on the bathroom floor. Soul flinching as she rubs lotion on his scar and mumbling “thank you” into her shoulder when she climbs into bed with him, because they both get more rest when they’re together. Soul always being there, being so much hers that her life is not her life without Soul in it, and knowing that his life is not his without Maka in it.

  
Fire of my loins.

  
Soul’s adam’s apple bobbing as he drinks. Soul gnawing on his lower lip as he asks “have you ever kissed anyone” and clicking his tongue when she asks why he wants to know. Soul’s thumb sneaking under the cuff of her glove and tracing her pulse, and the heat his fingerprint leaves when he pulls away to wipe the tiniest bit of blood from his nose.

  
My sin.

  
Maka’s hand slips inside her waistband, and it doesn’t feel bad at all.

  
My _Soul._

**Author's Note:**

> FIRST NOTE: the use of the book Lolita is not meant to glorify any of its contents.  
> SECOND NOTE: WOWIE it FINALLY happened, I FINALLY wrote demisexual/ace spectrum SoMa after a good five years of prescribing to that headcanon (it’s not even a headcanon anymore that shit is just canon in my brain now.) Shoutout to the incomparable [makapedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makapedia/pseuds/makapedia) for several things, among them being a sweetheart and being the person to show me the good word of demi SoMa.  
> In all seriousness, SoMa is one of my favorite anime ships of all time and they’re the subject of the first fic I EVER read on AO3, so finally writing them after such a long period of having them in my life is very special and I hope I wrote something special for you too <3  
> \-------  
> Thank you for reading this. Comments and kudos water my crops!  
> Yell at me on [tumblr](http://kataruhh.tumblr.com)


End file.
